


Want

by Desdimonda



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft - Various Authors
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, F/M, Kinda, Mildly Dubious Consent, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Tagging just incase
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-10 18:43:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11132574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desdimonda/pseuds/Desdimonda
Summary: Maiev has a dream while she's on watch, guarding Illidan in his cell, then wakes up, wanting.Wanting him.





	Want

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired to write this while writing another piece of porn. Porn inspired by porn. Pornception.  
> And I also know that Illidan wasn't really chained like this. Probably. Maybe. But then again, ten thousand years was a long time.

_Hands, familiar - but not - dragged down her stomach, smaller claws than she had remembered scratching against the ripple of her muscle. She was bare, every inch of skin exposed beneath eyes, familiar - but not._

_Eyes that shone gold, not green, beneath a brow she knew. Beneath hair that caught the moonlight, the rich purple hue of the strands slipping against her pink skin. Hair that was now black; as black as the night sky Maiev looked up to, from where Elune looked down._

_A sky that was ten thousand years younger; a sky that was home._

_Maiev gasped as she felt his tongue lap along her folds, a whisper of a moan falling past her lips, with a voice that was once gentler; with a heart that was once lighter._

_She felt Elune stronger within her now, as they lay on the temple floor, priestess and mage, clothes shed; shame left by the door; sense, quelled._

_Those claws scratched at her skin, again._

_Maiev moaned, gasping, and the sky seemed to breathe with her, the stars twinkling in time to her breaths._

_She reached out to touch his head, to twist fingers in his hair, but she touched nothing._

And awoke.

A startled cry, twinned with a whimper of pleasure, with a gasp of surprise, and Maiev sat upright, away from the pillar at her back, pushing the thick, heavy cloak from around her body.

It was hot. Too hot. Her skin stuck to what little she wore; a linen tunic and trousers. And she breathed too quickly.

When she moved, she felt the wetness between her legs slide against her trousers, and it made her involuntarily moan.

A chain rattled. Maiev turned. 

Illidan wrapped his fingers around the bars of his prison, his fel green eyes, watching, staring; his lips parted, the tips of his fangs, bared. 

“Good dream?” he asked, his voice a low, husky drawl. He pressed his forehead against the cold metal as he stared, unable to look away, the strain against his leathers _unmistakable_  in the low light, flickering above.

Maiev trembled, the spillover desire from her dream unwilling to let her go. And the lust that radiated from Illidan as he watched, desire narrowing his eyes to slits, was _unforgiving_. 

He wanted. 

He wanted, _her._

Maiev leaned back against the pillar, her silver hair, loose, messy, and without warning, she slid a hand beneath her trousers, and sank two fingers deep between her hot folds. The touch took her breath. She was so wet she pressed through the linen, and the simple slide of her fingers drew the longest, loudest moan that she hadn’t meant to give. 

But she did.

Her eyes held his. Eyes that in her dream had been gold, on a body that had been untouched. Why had her mind given her that? When did she ever care for him in their youth? Never. She had despised his touch with the arcane; she had despised his arrogance; his desperation to become all that those damned eyes had promised - _no matter what._

Maiev slid her fingers over her swollen bud, fingers gliding so easily between her folds, as she remembered the way his tongue had felt, in her dream. She wondered what it felt like, now.

Illidan’s chains rattled against the bars as he watched, as he growled, low, baring his fangs behind a feral, rasping moan. A moan that met hers; a moan that spoke more than words - words than were left unsaid. 

Claws scratched against the metal; his chest pressed against the bars, his tattoos blazing bright green, pulsing in time to his breaths as he watched Maiev’s every move, every gasp, every languid stroke that made her body, quiver.

“You want to be here, don’t you,” she said, her words staggered with a moan as her back arched, her touch coiling a powerful weave of pleasure. When was the last time she had done this? She couldn’t even remember.

“Not as much as you,” he said, dragging his hands against the bars, the chain rattling, again, again. He couldn’t even touch himself. Maiev had clamped his hands against the bars earlier, restricting his movements. He couldn’t even sit. “I heard you cry my name in your sleep,” he said, his words tinged with a satisfied drawl.

Maiev laughed, her laugh falling into a moan as she slid her fingers again, again, holding Illidan’s gaze, making sure he watched, for every single motion, every single touch, every single breath.

“Only because you’re all I see,” she said, her back arching as her body pushed off, away from the pillar with a coil of intense pleasure. Her eyelids flickered shut, Maiev unable to control her body, and as she forced them open, she turned, sharply, and crawled to her knees before Illidan, tilting back her head, the brush of her warm breath grazing over his arousal, bound beneath his leathers. “Because I hate you, with everything I have; and all I have, is _you_.”

Maiev shuddered, feeling herself nearly _there,_ as her fingers moved rough, fast, over her bud, as she knelt before him, but not yet. Not yet. 

“Let me go and you can _have me_ ,” he breathed, staring down at her as she knelt, a touch away, the heat of her body radiating against his. It was a torture; a pain more than his marks from the Legion; than from the severing of his eyes and the marks on his chest. Why did he want her? 

 _Why?_  

He supposed it was as she said. All he had, was her. There was nothing else for him; there was never going to be anything else, but _her._  

Two of Illidan’s claws broke against the bars from his hold, tight, and fierce. 

Maiev smiled.

“I’ll have you - but I’m not letting you go,” she said.

Maiev lifted both hands, one damp with her fluids, and fumbled with his leathers, her fingers pulling him free, easily. 

Illidan’s legs trembled as she touched - as he felt the first heat of something - of anything - that _wanted_ him, in thousands of years. He couldn’t look away. He didn’t want to. Ever. Her fingers slid along his length - hot and hard, for what had felt like hours as she slept, writhing, moaning, her fingers echoing what he had been doing in her dream. 

She had called his name, a whisper on her lips. And he wanted to hear it again. 

But he wouldn’t now. 

Nothing would fall past those lips, because they slid over his cock, her tongue rolling over his damp, weeping tip.

He fought against the binds on his hands that kept him stuck against the bars, unable to move, unable to touch. Even if he didn’t want this, he wouldn’t have been able to stop. And that thought made Illidan shudder; it made the roll of her tongue, the heat of her breath, the claw of her fingers over his stomach, dragging, scratching, tracing the curve of his tattoos, all the more _loud_. 

Illidan felt like he couldn’t breathe as she sank down, the drag of her teeth slipping along his length; the roll of her tongue feeling out his thick heat, the tip nudging against the back of her throat, again, again. He couldn’t fit all the way in. Her lips couldn’t reach his base. 

And that made him cry out. That made him thrust, pushing back Maiev’s head, watching the shake of her silver hair fall loose from her high tail, falling down with each bob of her head.

Maiev had barely looked at him before she sank down, all desperate lips and tongue and teeth. And when she did, her eyes sprang open, wide; she gasped, the sound muffled by his thickness. A thickness that was ridged - not smooth; that was _scaled_ , heavily at the base, and tapering to a point, at his tip. 

She ran her tongue from as far down as she could reach, to his tip, feeling his roughness, listening to the ragged moans that she pulled past his lips from her touch. She hadn’t expected this - what had she expected? Had she ever thought about him like this before? Probably. Would she admit that? Never.

Teeth dragged against scales as she pulled back, her whole body shuddering from the sensation, from the sounds. She could feet the tips of his fingers claw at her arms; arms that reached up to feel his stomach, to scratch, like he had beneath the stars, as she dreamed. 

But they were beneath no stars here. They were beneath, nothing. Life, left by the door. Hope, quelled.

She was fast and rough, uncaring if she hurt him, or herself. She didn’t want to take her time, she didn’t want to think. She just, _wanted_. 

“Let me _go_ ,” growled Illidan, through a stagger of moans, his body shaking against the bars, the chime of chains, a melody to her ears. 

Maiev’s answer was a scratch of claws against his stomach; an eager bob of her head, up, and down.

“ _Maiev_ ,” he hissed, pulling his bound hands against the bars, the single, solitary word a desperate prayer. His body was quivering now, beneath her. Just like she wanted. 

Again, again, she slid up, and down, feeling every ridge of his hard cock, the bumps, the scales, the way it swelled that little bit more in the middle, and the sharp, biting tang of fel, so strong and potent, it near made her pull away. 

But she couldn’t, because she wanted.

And then with a loud, feral cry, with a sound that made Maiev shiver, she heard Illidan come before she felt it. It was a sound, so exquisitely loud and desperate - a sound, just for her, that she had made. 

And then, she felt it; she tasted it.

Clutching onto his hips, claws searing into hot skin, he filled her mouth fast and full with his seed, hot, bitter and strong, the tang of fel unmistakable beneath his taste. A taste she’d imagined; a taste, she’d had in her dream; a taste, she wanted. 

Gasping for air, Maiev pulled back, swallowing the fill of his seed, a trail slipping down her chin.

She watched as Illidan collapsed against the bars, breathless, shaking. And holding his gaze, she sank her fingers between her legs again and stroked. 

She stroked fast and eager, her fingers near lost to the swell of her fluids. And in seconds, she was there. 

Maiev fought against her eyes that wanted to close, to bask in the moment of bliss, for she wanted him to watch, she wanted to hold his felflame eyes as she came, a breath away from him, his trembling fingers desperate to touch what she wouldn’t let him.

She fell forward, breathless, against the bars of his cell, and slid off her knees, and to the floor.

Maiev licked her lips.


End file.
